


Drabble #2 - “I might have had a few shots…”

by you_make_me_wander



Series: Birthday drabbles [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Birthday List, Drabbles, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 02:26:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4811435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_make_me_wander/pseuds/you_make_me_wander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia gets wasted and Stiles picks her up from the bar. Completely drunk, Lydia confesses her feelings for Stiles only to forget about it the next morning. Lucky for them, Lydia is smart enough to ensure that she’ll remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drabble #2 - “I might have had a few shots…”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hey guys! Here's the 2nd drabble for the Birthday drabble series.
> 
> You can check out my Birthday Page on tumblr. I'm you-make-me-wander over there. The link is on my sidebar.
> 
> Enjoy :)

For the lovely Ashley, stydia-martiniski on tumblr. Everyone go check out her blog and wish her happy birthday :)

* * *

 

 “I might have had a few shots…”

She spent the entire ride pretending as if she isn’t drunk of her ass while Stiles had been quiet about it, keeping his opinion to himself. Now, at her front door, she admits she’s wasted. He can only stare at Lydia blankly for a solid minute before helping her inside her house, one of his arms sliding around her waist while he uses the other to pull one of her arms around his shoulders for support. Natalie opens the door for them, a look anything but amused on the woman’s features at her daughter’s behavior at four in the morning, a more compassionate one offered to Stiles for putting up with Lydia in such a situation.

“Oh really?” Stiles asks, utterly mad at Lydia for letting herself get to this state of inebriation and all on her own, no less. He raises his eyebrows in disbelief as Natalie closes the front door after murmuring apologies to a few neighbors, sarcasm making its way to his tone when he continues. “You can barely stand, I had to pick you up from the bar, and you were loud enough that you woke up your neighbors and your mom…” He glances over his shoulder at Natalie as the woman waits for Stiles to walk Lydia to the couch. “I’d never guess.”

Lydia doesn’t notice her mom standing behind Stiles nor his ironic tone; she’s too wasted. She proceeds to free herself from his grasp to fall onto the couch dramatically - certainly not lady-like - but soon Stiles is near her again, and even as drunk as she is Lydia still notices how warm he always feels when he touches her. She wishes he’d do it more often.

Stiles struggles to pull her up into a seating position so that he can at least take her jacket off while Natalie walks to the kitchen to bring her daughter a glass of water, and it takes all that the woman has no to let it slip from her hands and onto the floor when she returns to the living room just in time to hear her daughter mutter the words everyone has been patiently waiting for her to say out loud, and that Lydia hadn’t dared to yet.

“You’re so weird, Stiles,” Lydia mumbles, her speech slurred because her tongue is too dry. Stiles only scoffs at that, pulling at one of her sleeves. “But I love you.”

Lydia doesn’t seem to want to take her confession back after she says it, but her words still Stiles in a way many things haven’t been able to in a while, and Natalie inhales sharply. Stiles can hear her intake of breath even though she’s standing by the kitchen door, a few feet away from the pair.

It takes him a few seconds to respond and Lydia stares at him confused, like she was expecting more of a reaction from him at the proclamation of her love. He chooses to ignore it, continuing to tug at one of the sleeves and successfully taking it off. “You… You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Yes, I do,” she argues almost immediately, pouting. _Didn’t he like her?_ “Stiles, I love you.”

Stiles can feel her eyes boring into the side of his skull. “Lydia, you’re drunk!” he tells her offhandedly, glancing at Natalie for help in evident distress.

It takes the woman a moment to recompose from the shock of hearing her daughter finally admitting the obvious, even if in a drunken state. “Lydia, maybe this is a conversation for some other time,” Natalie tries, approaching them and helping Stiles get rid of Lydia’s jacket for good.

Lydia frowns, only now realizing that her mother is there. It doesn’t stop her. She stirs on her seat to face the boy fully. “No. Stiles, why aren’t you listening?” He narrows his eyes at her but doesn’t say anything, fixing a few pillows for her while Natalie folds Lydia’s jacket and places it on one of the armchairs. “Stiles, come here,” Lydia whispers enticingly, grabbing his wrist to catch his attention. Like she didn’t have it already.

He uses it to his advantage, grabbing her own wrist and gently pushing her down onto the couch, trying his best to pretend that this isn’t affecting him at all while Natalie goes grab something to cover her daughter up. “Okay, so why don’t you get some rest and clear that head of yours, uh?”

Lydia doesn’t like the soft tone of his voice, not when she’s trying to get across a message that he’s clearly not receiving. It’s making her more obstinate. “But Stiles, you need to know. I have to tell you that-”

He cuts her off, taking the blanket from Natalie and pulling it over the strawberry blonde girl. They both tuck her in. “Okay, all ready for sleep.” He does his best to sound cheerful, or in the very least amused with the situation, but the way he glances at Lydia’s mom lets the woman know that he’s scared of whatever will come from her daughter’s mouth next. “I’d better go before…” _Before she says something else she’ll regret in the morning_ , he wants to say.

Natalie nods and places a hand on the boy’s shoulder, squeezing lightly in understanding but Lydia is not having it. She sits back up again. “No. No, you can’t leave. Stiles, please don’t leave. Not before I tell you. You need to know that I-“

He stops her again, ignoring the way her green eyes almost look pleading at his brown ones. “You can tell me all that tomorrow, okay?” He only suggests it because he’s sure she’ll never remember this in the morning, drunk as she seems to be. “I really should go, it’s late. Or well, early. So hmm, sleep tight.”

He kisses the top of her head and ignores her pout, quickly making his way to the front door followed by Natalie. The woman hushes the words trying to comfort him. “I’m sorry, honey. Maybe _she will_ remember it in the morning and you’ll both sort your things out...” She offers him a smile, but this time he can’t hide his disappointment. Lydia finally admits she does have feelings for him and she’s drunk. _Great_. He’s never even gonna know if she means it. Stiles looks so hurt for a second that Natalie ends up giving him a quick hug before opening the door to let him out.

“WAIT!” Lydia yells from the couch, waving something in her hand that the other two can’t quite make in the dim light. “You don’t believe me, do you Stiles? Is that it?”

He takes a step back involuntarily. Honestly, her resolve is scaring him and he really should just leave before something else happens. “Lydia, I told you. We’ll just talk about it-”

She interrupts him this time around, smirking in a way that makes him wary. “No. I’ll prove it to you.” Lydia struggles to free herself from the blanket and get up on her feet, a head rush making her stop after taking only two steps in his direction and supporting herself on the back of the couch. She straightens up fairly quickly, determined and on a mission, and only when she lowers her gaze does Stiles realize that she has her phone in her hands. “I’ll prove it to you,” she all but hums.

“What are you d-”

He doesn’t get to finish the question, and is horrified when he realizes what she intends to do. Lydia brings her phone up so that it’s in front of her face. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll just record it. Make it permanent.”

She shrugs her shoulders like it’s no big deal and Stiles takes a step forward immediately, ready to stop her, but Natalie places a hand on his chest, making the boy come to halt. “Maybe it’s for the best,” she murmurs to him, the way his breath hitches not going unnoticed.

Stiles can’t decide if he wants Lydia to have the tact to remember to actually press _record_ or not. This is seriously too much to handle at four in the morning. “Lydia…”

Lydia seems unfazed by his anxious tone and starts talking to the device. “My name is Lydia Martin and I’m in love with Stiles Stilinski. I’m utterly, irrevocably, undeniably in love with the lanky, spastic, loquacious, ridiculously good-hearted, caring, smart, driven, sarcastic young boy that came into my life when I didn’t even know that I needed him. And I needed him, I still do. And however drunk I am is not gonna change that. I can only hope I’m fortunate enough to learn that he feels the same way about me.”

With that, she taps a finger on her phone and lowers it, feeling exposed – but certainly not intimidated - at the way Stiles is looking back at her, mouth agape. “Lydia…” he mutters again without knowing what more to say, because really, what’s he gonna say to _that_?

She waves a hand at him and offers him a devious smile, already making her way back to the couch. “You can go now, we’ll discuss this later.”

He’s about to ask Lydia if she’s kidding, if this is a joke to her, but Natalie sees right through him and quickly places her hands on the boy’s shoulders, gently pushing him through the threshold and out of the house. Stiles turns back to face her, disconcerted. “She- She just…”

“I know. But why don’t you go get some sleep and we’ll deal with this in the morning?” He doubts he’ll sleep a wink after this but he still nods, taking a deep breath. “Thank you for bringing her home, Stiles.”

“Of course. Good night, Mrs. Martin.” He heads to his Jeep to leave, stopping midway to turn back around to ask for something he knows he’s not getting. “Is there any chance you’d snatch Lydia’s phone away from her and erase that video before she sees it?” he asks sheepishly, desperately, because the last thing he’d want would be to lose Lydia as a friend.

Natalie shakes her head but gives in to a small chuckle before smiling at him. “Good night, Stiles.”

He can barely bring himself to breathe properly on the ride home.

xxxxxxxxxx

Lydia wakes up to a throbbing headache and her stomach twisting and twirling in a way she hasn’t felt in quite a while, and it takes her several minutes to even grasp the concept of getting up from the couch, let alone actually try to do it. But then someone – her mom, she guesses – is doing so much noise in the kitchen that it seems they’re about to start a revolution and so Lydia, ever so cautiously, gets up.

Her mom is already doing the dishes and that strikes Lydia as odd, but then again she’s not sure for how long she slept. “What time is it?”

Natalie jumps slightly at Lydia’s sudden appearance and turns around to face her daughter, a small – but still there – smirk making Lydia feel uneasy. “Just past 12:30. I figured you wouldn’t be able to hold anything down for a while, so I helped myself and had lunch already.”

Lydia blushes, embarrassed. It’s not like her mom doesn’t know that Lydia parties hard, but it has been a while since it happened last. “About that…”

Natalie dries her hands and crosses her arms in front of her chest, leaning against one of the counters to stare at Lydia. “Yes, about that…”

“I’m sorry I got drunk last night. I don’t even remember how much I drank but if my headache is any indication, it was a lot. I was just… Trying to clear my head. There has been so much going on and with graduation getting closer, I just- I just wanted a little time for me.” _I just wanted to forget everything for a night_ , she wants to say.

“You should have taken your friends with you, Lydia,” her mom scolds. “Something could have happened to you.”

“We don’t usually hang out like that,” she replies. Where would the pack even find the time to go to a club and get wasted? And why would she take them? The werewolves can’t get drunk, Malia is incapable of having a good time and Kira would probably not even drink anything. But her mom probably wouldn’t understand that. And then Stiles… Why does she vaguely remember Stiles from last night?

“Then maybe next time you should drink at home, where you’re safe. If it hadn’t been for Stiles, I don’t know how you’d have gotten home last night.”

Lydia stares at her mother in surprise. “Stiles brought me home? H- How?” She hadn’t talked to Stiles all Saturday, to her recollection. And no one from the pack had known Lydia was gonna go out; if they had, they would have probably tried to stop her.

Natalie has to push her buttons, otherwise Lydia and Stiles are never not gonna get anywhere. This is such a good opportunity, she can’t let it pass up. “You texted him saying that you needed him to pick you up. So he did, and he brought you home safe.”

“Oh.” Lydia doesn’t remember that, but then again she doesn’t remember half of what went down just a few hours earlier. She does remember starting to drink more because of _him_ , because of _them_ though. After that, her memories are blurry. Things have been strained between them ever since he broke up with Malia almost three months ago and she doesn’t know how to fix something she doesn’t know how it got broken. Lydia’s blaming this on him, but of course she can’t tell her mom that. “I’ll call him to thank him.”

She searches her jeans for her phone but there’s nothing, and so she turns around to find it on the coffee table back in the living room. When she starts making her way to pick it up, Natalie stops her. “While you’re on it, maybe you should tell him how you feel.”

Her mom’s words could have meant anything, literally anything, but her tone – so soft, hopeful even – has Lydia freezing on the spot, looking down at her feet that suddenly seem so interesting that Lydia could write a poem about them.

“You said something to him. Do you remember that?” Lydia stays silent, so Natalie continues. “You said something to him last night and it’ll change things, Lydia. He’s so nervous about it that he’s called me twice and texted me five times this morning already, just to make sure that you don’t see _it_.”

At that, Lydia looks over her shoulder at her mom, brows furrowing in confusion. “See _what_?”

Natalie walks past Lydia to grab her daughter’s phone and hands it to her but not before sharing a piece of her mind with Lydia, who’s not sure she’ll want to hear what her mother has to say. “You kept telling him that… Maybe you should see for yourself first. But just know that he tried to stop you and you still did it. And he’s been trying to reach out to me all morning to make sure you have an out.”

The words come out faintly. “An out?”

Natalie just looks down at the phone. “You might want to check your videos, honey.”

Lydia complies slowly, and doesn’t even need to do anything but to unlock the screen; the video is right there. She hesitates for a second before playing it, apprehensive of what she’s gonna find. The words echo in the silence that sets itself between both redheads.

_“My name is Lydia Martin and I’m in love with Stiles Stilinski. I’m utterly, irrevocably, undeniably in love with the lanky, spastic, loquacious, ridiculously good-hearted, caring, smart, driven, sarcastic young boy that came into my life when I didn’t even know that I needed him. And I needed him, I still do. And however drunk I am is not gonna change that. I can only hope I’m fortunate enough to learn that he feels the same way about me.”_

Lydia plays the video three more times as if watching it again will change anything that’s in it. When she’s finished, she looks up at her mom, completely lost. Her eyes water without her consent. “I was drunk,” she says defensively.

“You still meant it.”

She dismisses it. “And me and Jordan, we…”

Natalie’s tone is more shocked than anything. “Lydia!”

“No. I…” She puts her phone away like it’s burning, weighing on her. “I can’t let _this_ ruin- Stiles is my friend. He’s one of the few good, steady things I have in my life. I can’t lose him…”

Her hands start shaking of their own accord and Natalie holds them in hers. “This doesn’t have to be a bad th-”

Lydia feels a tear roll down her cheek and can’t help the small sob that escapes her lips. “You d- You don’t understand…” Lydia wishes she did.

Natalie wipes the tear away and smiles softly. “You know I’m not one to pry on your life, Lydia, but what are you even doing with Deputy Parrish?”

“Mom…”

“I don’t care that you’re eighteen, Lydia. You’re still considered a minor until you graduate and you know that, no matter how mature you are.”

Lydia worries her lower lip and looks at the ground, embarrassed. “I do know that… Me and Stiles, we are not- We keep arguing and bickering and something’s wrong between us and I don’t know how to fix it. And Jordan and I, it’s just innocent flirting, okay? And he’s been there for me lately and he listens and… And I just-”

“You’ve been lonely,” Natalie whispers. Lydia nods slowly and lets herself be wrapped by her mother’s arms, taking a few deep breaths and quieting her sobs not to make her headache worse. “I’m sorry, sweetie.” Natalie runs a hand through Lydia’s hair and kisses her forehead. “I’m gonna ask you something and I want you to give me an honest answer, okay?”

Lydia nods again, feeling her mouth go dry instantly, her heart pounding in her chest. “Okay.”

“You getting closer to Deputy Parrish, does that have anything to do with Stiles and Malia? With Stiles being less available for you?”

Lydia purses her lips and nods almost imperceptibly. “Maybe.”

“But they’re broken up now, aren’t they?”

“Yeah. They have been for a few months now.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Lydia’s answer is barely a hum. “I don’t know.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Stiles has been a nerve wreck. Natalie spent most of her Sunday answering his texts and telling him that things will run their course, but she never disclosed to him whether Lydia saw the video or not. He hasn’t heard anything from Lydia for the rest of the weekend.

He figures that either a) she never saw the video, choosing to delete it before even watching it, or b) she did see it and is pretending she didn’t, which is why he decides on going to school early on Monday. That way he can get everything he wants from his locker before most of the students (and Lydia) get there and go hide somewhere where he won’t be found by anyone (specially Lydia) until he has to go to class. If he doesn’t get caught until 1st period, it’ll buy him some time to figure out what the hell he’s gonna do.

He shouldn’t have to do anything. He didn’t make a video professing his love for her, she did. But he can’t lose her, he can’t even entertain the thought of not having Lydia Martin in his life, and so he drags his feet lazily as he makes way to his locker, his mind anywhere but with him.

He opens it unhurriedly, and just when he’s about to put some books into his backpack he stills completely, all breath knocked out of him when he hears his name murmured behind him in a voice he’d recognize anywhere. “Stiles.”

He looks over his shoulder to find Lydia standing behind him, not two feet away and dressed in one of the simplest outfits he’s ever seen her in; shorts and a long shirt, flats to complement, her auburn hair falling in soft waves. She barely has make-up on. “Hey.” He lets it out casually, hoping she won’t notice his edginess. “What are you doing here so early?” he asks, turning back around to face his locker again.

Lydia sees the wariness in his eyes, how anxious he is in the way his muscles tense. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He shoves a few books into his backpack distractedly, not really paying attention to what he’s doing. “Oh, I uh… I just wanted to make sure that I didn’t get here late. Traffic is crazy in the morning and…”

“You were trying to avoid me.” He ignores this. “I figured you’d be here early, so I came too.” He pretends he’s not even listening to her, but she notices the blush that creeps up to his cheeks. She places a hand on his wrist and Stiles lets his backpack fall to the ground, jolted by her touch. “Stiles?” He looks down at her hand in surprise, then at his books all over the floor. When he starts getting down to pick them up, she stops him by slipping her hand down his wrist, her fingers touching his almost shyly. “Stiles?”

They stay in silence for a minute just looking at the other. There are dark bags under her eyes, he notices, like she hasn’t slept a bit. Her lip is trembling. “You watched it.” It’s not a question, but Lydia still nods in confirmation. “Okay, then lets just pretend you didn’t and it’s all good. I’ll forget about it if you do too.”

Lydia furrows her brows in confusion at his reaction but Stiles doesn’t see, already down on his heels to pick his belongings from the floor and shoving them into his backpack unceremoniously. “No. Stiles, we need to talk about this.”

Stiles gets up and doesn’t look at her, instead choosing to slam his locker shut. “We really don’t. You were drunk, Lydia. I get it.” He puts on his backpack and glances at her briefly. “Everything’s okay, alright?” He waves awkwardly at her, taking a step back. “See you at lunch?”

She shakes her head negatively but Stiles chooses to ignore it, turning around to leave. He’s already a few feet away when she brings herself to speak. “I don’t need an out.”

Her words echo through the empty hallway and make him stop. _Seriously, what’s she not getting?_ He wonders if she’s willing to compromise their friendship. He isn’t. Stiles looks at her over his shoulder again. “I’m giving it to you, Lydia. You should take it.”

Lydia had talked about everything with her mom the day before. She told the older woman all about how she met Stiles, how they became friends, how they came to be close. They talked about her father, Jackson, Allison, Aiden, Malia and everything in between. Her mother listened attentively, only commenting when necessary. In the end, she asked Lydia what she was gonna do about it. All sleep was lost that night because of it but at least Lydia came to a conclusion. Stiles is about to take another step away from her when Lydia speaks her mind. “I don’t want to.”

Her reply sounds genuine to him, resolute, and so he turns around to face her ever so slowly, cautious, afraid that if he does it any faster he’ll shatter. Or rather, his heart. “Lydia…”

“My name is Lydia Martin…” Stiles tenses as he hears her words once more, this time spoken directly to him instead of her phone, and he has to refrain from taking a step back when she steps forward to meet him. Lydia doesn’t even flail, determined. “My name is Lydia Martin and I’m in love with you. I’m utterly, irrevocably, undeniably in love with the lanky, spastic, loquacious, ridiculously good-hearted, caring, smart, driven, sarcastic young boy that came into my life when I didn’t even know that I needed him. And I needed you, Stiles, and I still do. And nothing is not gonna change that. I can only hope I’m fortunate enough to learn that you feel the same way about me.”

She stops right in front of him, breathless she doesn’t even know why. Stiles can only stare, studying her, trying to ask her silently if she’s telling the truth. Words don’t come out of his mouth but she seems to get his question, but then again they were always good at communicating with just one look. She nods timidly, giving him half a smile that turns into a full grin when he smiles back at her the same way. Against all odds – and really, Lydia should be used to it by now, to Stiles not doing what she thinks he’ll do, ever - he pulls her into a hug, holding her as close as he possibly can. “Does this mean we’re not bickering anymore? Because I hate it.”

It alleviates the tension and Lydia finds herself letting out a chuckle against his chest. “Of course we are. Just not as viciously. Or as awkwardly.” She looks up to find him already staring down at her, eyes brimming with emotion. She’s sure hers are the same way.

He licks his lips. “I have things to say.”

She smirks. “Of course you do.”

“First, you’re never, ever getting that drunk without me again. Or at least without someone from the pack. Lydia, it was irresponsible. It took me half an hour to find you…”

He tucks her hair behind her ears softly, cradling her cheeks right after. Lydia’s hands roam his chest up to his neck. “I’m sorry.”

He pulls her the tiniest but closer and whispers to her lips. “You scared me.”

“It won’t happen again. I promise.” Lydia pulls him a little closer as well. “And thank you for picking me up.”

“Always.” They are standing as close as they can be without having their lips touching, breathing the other’s air. “Okay second, how can you come up with such a speech while you’re drunk of your ass and not stutter once? It’s impressive.” She chuckles and Stiles swears on his life that her lips brush his swiftly.

“I’m smart, haven’t you heard?”

He laughs. “Oh, I’m well aware of that.”

“And I’ve got the speech memorized now,” she adds playfully.

“Yeah, I noticed.” He caresses her cheeks and they stay silent for a little while longer. “Do you really mean it?”

She doesn’t even let a second go by before answering him “Yes” and there’s a sense of resolve to it. Everything he needs to know about how she feels about him is in her eyes, staring right back at him. “Malia?” she asks just to make sure.

“Done. Parrish?”

Lydia smiles softly. “He’s not you.”

It’s all he needs to crash his lips on hers.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review :)


End file.
